Redoing it Voldemort Style
by severusphoenix
Summary: Fanfiction has sent nearly everyone back to 'fix' things except for the Dark Lord. So this is very AU and the 'fates' or whoever decide that Tom should have a try at it. To Voldemort's dismay he must try to save both the wizarding world and the muggle one as well. Don't really know what pairings I'll try for this time, the characters will likely let me know.


Redoing it Voldemort Style

Disclaimer – I don't own it, just having fun with JKR's characters.

Chapter 1

The late Lord Voldemort stood in an immense vaulted chamber made of a strange marble-like white stone. The stones glowed from within rather oddly. There were windows; high up and seemingly far away in the distance that had a brilliant light streaming down. Unfortunately Tom was still recovering from the pain of reuniting with all the pieces of his soul and was in no mood to appreciate the ambience. The distress was not physical although he **seemed **to have a body, here. Some part of Tom knew it was only an illusion. His spirit was what was truly here, and the 'body' was just to make it easier for him to deal with and focus on what was happening.

Whispering voices were all around him, and yet the vast space gave the impression of being empty. The voices were slowly listing off all the events in Tom's life. They weren't saying that they were good or bad, they were just reciting them while Tom watched the events. The activities they were speaking of unfolded before Tom, a bit like a 3-D muggle movie.

"Turning points" in Tom's life were pointed out, along with a view of what might have happened if he had chosen differently. Some events that Tom would have passed off as unimportant were examined, and he found out that they had, perhaps been more pivotal than he'd thought.

The voices whispered about kindness and compassion and Tom sneered in derision. Weakness. It was nothing more than showing others you could be manipulated. Leaving your emotions open to be trampled on …

The view changed, showing how Tom could have bound his followers to him and his cause with bonds of friendship and mutual respect, how they would not have deserted Tom the first chance they had if they had thought they were more than easily discarded slaves.

Lucius in particular was shown. Abraxas had taught Lucius to believe in Voldemort from the time he was a toddler. Tom winced as the whispering voices showed him the disillusionment Lucius had felt after becoming a Death Eater. Lucius had not bothered to find his 'Lord' after his first fall. After all, if a Dark Lord can be defeated by a mere infant, no less, why bother following him? That was a viewpoint that Tom, himself, had taught the Death Eaters he had to acknowledge with a grimace.

Then they switched to a view of Lucius languishing in Azkaban after failing Voldemort, knowing that the disaster in the Department of Mysteries would not be forgiven and wishing he'd never heard of the Dark Lord. Lucius' year of humiliation in his own Manor was next, showing a Lucius desperate to protect his family and at the very last, during the final battle, running through the school with Narcissa to find Draco, only caring that his family was safe.

"_The desperation and despair that Lucius showed at the end were not just from the punishments at your hands, although they were humiliating enough. Lucius had been groomed since birth to believe in you and be your right hand." The voice still somehow sounded kind, though the words troubled Tom greatly. _

"_When Lucius realized you only saw him as a slave – a highly placed slave, but a slave none the less it devastated him. The despair was as much because he realized he had condemned Draco to the same fate and it nearly drove him mad. After all, whatever else he was, Lucius did love his son."_

"Weakness … that sort of emotion causes you to make the wrong decisions. Only fools believe in it." Tom objected automatically, though even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"_Bonds of family are strong because of love and mutual caring." One of the voices said. "In the end Lucius' only regret was to not have left you completely after your first fall … or to not have joined you at all."_

Tom squirmed mentally. True, there were those who valued family above anything, he supposed, though Tom's own family had been non-existent. The purebloods he had exploited been very tightly knit families for the most part. He'd fed their fears that the influx of muggleborns would change the fabric of their family based society.

"_Bonds of friendship were something else you didn't understand. You never really had any friends. You networked allies and branded minions."_

The flowing scene changed to Severus, showing his childhood friendship with Lily as well as Severus' miserable home life, the despair and abuse. Tom already knew about the home life. He'd been interested in Severus in part because of his brilliance as a student and because they both had managed to excel at Hogwarts in spite of their childhood poverty.

Of all his inner circle, Severus had been the one he'd felt some form of kinship with. An immensely powerful young wizard who had become disillusioned by the hypocrisy he'd seen in those that claimed to be 'light wizards'. Constantly overlooked by his teachers, both muggle and wizard, because he was poor, ugly and seemed destined for the dark.

Tom had recognized the needs Severus had, to feel accepted and protected. Voldemort had offered that. He'd promised protection and recognition and the chance to be involved in something that would be in the history books.

Tom might have kept Severus' loyalty. Tom knew that even without seeing it played out in front of him in the scenes that continually flowed in front of him. Even after Tom's first fall he might have been the one who would have stood by Tom_, if not for Lily_. Tom fumed at the thought, while the voices chuckled.

"I tried to spare her! The stupid girl wouldn't stand aside." Tom shouted at the amused voices, though his voice felt lost in the vastness of the chamber.

"He asked for her life … took an impressive number of _cruciatus_' while begging for me to spare her … I did try … I swear I tried …" His voice and words became disjointed in his agitation. For some reason he felt he had to emphasize that. That he had **tried** to spare the mudblood chit that Severus had doted on.

Tom had felt that the girl was a weakness in Severus and he had let his displeasure at the affection Severus had felt for her be known in the most painful manner he could manage without causing permanent damage.

Severus had insisted that he just wanted her spared, that he knew she would never accept him when he was a Death Eater. He just wanted her spared. Severus had been certain she would flee to the muggle world if her family was dead and she would not trouble them there.

Tom had agreed, to the rest of the inner circle's amazement. They'd expected the half-blood upstart to be killed. Only Lucius had looked unsurprised. Lucius had realized early on that Severus had seemed to be a favorite of the Dark Lord's and Lucius had cultivated Severus' friendship on the basis of it.

"I did try to keep my promise … he should have understood that." Tom muttered again, feeling oddly _uncomfortable_, perhaps even apologetic. When Severus had delayed in returning to Tom's side that year of the tournament, he'd known Severus had wavered in his loyalty. Tom had forgiven Severus much, because some part of him knew that it had been his failure to spare Lily Potter that had caused Severus' loyalty to falter.

Tom had tried to explain himself in private to Severus about why he had been unable to spare the girl. The Dark Lord hadn't been able to bring himself to apologize even then. He had thought that the fact that he was willing to attempt to explain himself was apology enough, considering he was a Dark Lord. Tom had thought Severus had accepted that. Legilimancy had only shown a willingness to re-enter his service.

Tom watched the scenes before him. Severus' immense grief at Lily's death, his subsequent promise to protect Harry Potter at any cost because of her, his sheer nerve at continuing to spy for Albus to aid the boy, dying as he had and still managing to help Harry even while taking his final breaths. Tom had to admit that he would never have guessed the lengths Severus was willing to go to protect the final remnant of the woman he had loved.

Tom was also a bit shocked at how opportunistic Dumbledore had been. First blackmailing Severus emotionally when he'd come to Albus for help, and then tying him to Albus' cause with the promise to protect Harry. He'd dreadfully underestimated Albus' ability to manipulate.

"Weakness," Tom muttered again, trying to hang on to that belief, though his uncertainty was showing through. "Severus could have been great. He was smart, powerful and he had my favor. Then he let himself be manipulated by Dumbledore, who definitely didn't have Severus' best interest in mind. He used Severus worse than I ever did." Tom still had trouble understanding why Severus would throw it all away so the 'light side' could use him and still treat him like crap, even if he had loved the silly mudblood.

"_Not everyone longs to hold power over others. Severus wanted protection, and recognition, though in the end he just wanted to protect Lily and then Harry." The voice said. _

The scenes in front of Tom now showed wizarding family after wizarding family. Happy scenes that infuriated him, somehow. How dare they be happy? Some of them were obviously not wealthy, and still they smiled and laughed. Simpletons … morons … utter wastes of the magic they'd been given.

"_And yet they are __**happy, **__and no matter how much power you attained you were never truly happy – or satisfied." The voice mocked him. "You needed more and more. You kept searching for contentment and fulfillment and you would never have found it, even if you __**had **__managed to rule the entire world."_

Tom froze, and horror swept over him along with the knowledge that the voice was right. Tom wasn't sure **how** he knew that, but the certainty was there. Even if his plans had succeeded, he would never have found the satisfaction and contentment that he sought. It was a crushing blow.

The scenes from Tom's life continued relentlessly, right to the bitter end. He winced as he watched the final confrontation with Harry Potter. The boy was another enigma. He'd endured humiliation and outright abuse from his muggle relatives. Tom watched as year after year of neglect and outright malice toward Harry unfolded before him with a sense of shock and horror, as well as total disbelief.

Tom would never understand how Harry could stay loyal to that muggle loving old fool, Albus not to mention cheerfully accepting muggleborns and try to protect the muggle world from the Dark Lord. Not when his family had treated him like a hated housed-elf and resident whipping boy. Potter should have been scrambling to join him.

"_Harry had known the love of his parents, even if it was only very briefly – for less than two years." The voice said with a bit of sadness. "It was enough to make him open to friendships and for him to be able to forgive the Dursley or at least not want them dead. He longed for true family, of course. He still wanted the love some part of him remembered."_

"My mother was dead within a day of my birth, and my father, well he rejected me before I was even born." Tom hissed bitterly. He hated that his tone showed so clearly how much that had hurt him … _**and still hurt**_. "He certainly wasn't pleased to see me the last time we met." Tom smirked nastily at the memory.

"_When you went to confront your father you went with the __**intent**__ to kill. He could see that very clearly and his reaction was, at least in part, in response to that." The voice chided. "If you had gone with only the thought of 'finding out who he was', with no obvious harm intended, perhaps he would not have been so hostile."_

"He was a cold-hearted bigot. He hated anyone who wasn't just like him." Tom halted; struck by the fact that was obvious to even him. Tom had eventually become the very same sort of person.

The voice remained smugly silent, as no response was needed, this time. Tom could only hope that Dumbledore had had to go through the same torture after **his** demise. He cheered a bit at the thought of the scenes Albus might be watching and him having to justify all things he'd let happen 'for the greater good'.

"I'm tired of all of this." Tom growled, wearying at last of the entire business. "What is it exactly you want of me?"

"_The outcome of the war with you … well, the light has won but it will be a rather useless victory." The voice answered with a bit of tiredness. "They simply lost too many people. Muggleborns and even half-bloods will tend to stay in the muggle world or go back to it. They use magic less and less because of the statute of secrecy and the difficulty of using magic around muggle objects. _

_Wizarding culture will slowly be abandoned, and eventually deserted by too many. Those that are left try of course and even manage to hold off the inevitable for a generation or two. But in less than a century magic is mostly forgotten. Those with magic that are left untrained and who cannot control their magic end up 'medicated' or institutionalized in the muggle world. The few families with any knowledge of magic keep it very much to themselves."_

"_Unfortunately the muggle world does not do all that well either, what with their overcrowding and pollution that has led to global warming. Disaster eventually occurs, similar to the fates of lemmings headed toward the cliffs, and of course whatever is left of the magical world shares their fate." _

Tom had a brief flash of triumph. '**He had been right!**' The light had won in vain. But the flash died, consumed by depression. He'd wanted to preserve the culture and traditions of the wizarding world, or at least that was what it had all started out as. Tom had ended up concentrating on destroying anyone who opposed his increasingly narrow view of what the wizarding world should be made up of. Instead of preserving the magical world, he had become one of the major causes of its destruction.

The voices were silent for a time, likely letting Tom mull this over on his own. The scenes before Tom drifted a bit, just pulling forward images of things that Tom briefly thought of. Ideas of what he could have done differently.

The orphanage, Hogwarts School and the 'friends' he had made. The Horcruxes and people he'd killed from the time he was a teenager to the very end … the power he'd chased …

The scenes scrolled through possibilities and Tom wondered if his hell was to stand here and see all the things he **could** have done.

"_No, we've been looking into giving someone a chance to go back and change things to save not only the wizarding world … but to aid the muggle one as well." The voice said firmly._

Tom froze in astonishment and then burst into harsh laughter. "And you thought of me?" he asked incredulously. "Not 'kindly old Dumbledore'?" He sneered.

"_No, we never really considered him." The voice answered calmly. "He interferes with many things, of course, but never tried to change the wizarding world's opinion on things that would have helped – like getting them to convince the muggleborns or half-bloods that the wizarding world was worth staying in … he expected them to 'discover the wonders of it' on their own." _

_"He would never dream of trying to steer muggles toward sparing the environment their pollution and poisons."_

"_He started much too late on the Horcruxes. He had a decade to track down and destroy them, and he __**did**__ suspect they existed. Instead he was busy running the school and the Wizengamot as well as the International Confederation of Wizards." The voice was rueful. _

"_He is a good man … but undertaking the things that might need to be done? – he'll shrink from doing them– he'll try to find another way or put it off until it's too little too late – 'letting people make their own choices', which is usually okay, but not when he lets it cause the utter disaster that occurs after the end of the war. We need someone that is more willing to work in grey areas until this is cleared up."_

"I suppose I was your first choice then, of course." Tom smirked. Lord Voldemort, chosen hero to go back and save the world.

"_No." The voice crushed Tom's grandiose thoughts immediately. "Severus Snape was our first choice. He is quite familiar with difficult choices. But he arrives too late in the timeline to change enough of the past. We can't send him further back than when he was born, it creates too many paradoxes. Even sending him back and using a time-turner. Well, I don't need to tell you the problems it causes. The best way is to send someone from the time we want change to start to occur."_

Tom fumed for a bit over that **– Severus** was the first choice was he? Well he would show _**them.**_

"Just how far back do you intend to send me?" Tom asked a bit testily. "How much do I need to 'redo'. If I'm too young I'll have no way to really change things. Adults don't listen to children."

"_On the contrary … changing people's perceptions of you will have to start when you are young. Wizards and muggles alike." The voice sounded amused. _

Great – redoing a horrendous childhood, then. Maybe that was the 'hell' part of this.

"_It will only be as horrendous if you insist on it being so."_ The voice was beginning to get cryptic, irritating Tom_. "You're clever; you will have your memories – and therefore your knowledge of magic. True, the orphanage might be dismal … but it doesn't have to __**stay **__that way."_

Tom mulled that over. Yes, he could work with that. "Well, when do we start? I've been here for …" Tom stopped, feeling a bit uncertain. They had watched years' worth of memories and views of 'what if', and he was sure they had not left out a single moment. "How long have I been here?"

"It hardly matters, since you will be going back." The voice sounded amused. "After all, time doesn't work the same way here."

Now that Tom had agreed and the moment was at hand, he felt a wave of unease wash over him. The fate of the wizarding world was in his hands, along with aiding the muggle world. Not that Tom was all that concerned about _them._

"You don't have to do this alone, you know – you can enlist help. You can't tell them about being 'from the future' but you can get help, all the same." The voice sounded a bit weary, but positive in its assurance.

Tom nodded uncertainly and felt the space around him change, and his vision dimmed to just a blur of light and shadows. A swirling sensation engulfed Tom and the feeling of time passing oddly. Likely because it was going backwards – or perhaps sideways, he mused as he fought back panic.

At last the sensation ended and Tom could hear voices nearby. Real voices and not the whispery words from the vaulted chamber of light he had been in. Tom opened his eyes and looked around, shivering – it was quite cold.

The dreary exterior of the orphanage was in front of him. Little Amy was shivering on the front steps, clutching her thin sweater around her and crying. She did that a lot, Tom now recalled. Billy Stubbs, the big lug, Tom thought with derision, was shoving some of the other students around and giving orders on cleaning up the yard. Far too much of London seemed to think the orphanage play-yard was a dumping ground for trash.

Tom glanced at a paper at his feet – December 31st, 1937. His eleventh birthday. Not that there would be any celebration, of course. He would start Hogwarts in September of 1938. Not much time, then, before his first meeting with Dumbledore.

Tom shook his head, wondering if he was crazy. Perhaps he was really back at the battle, unconscious or hexed? Was he insane … or more insane, rather? It was difficult to believe what he had just witnessed. Had he totally lost it then, to actually believe in what he had seen?

"_What is crazier than seeing and __**not**__ believing?" a voice whispered. _

Tom sighed. Great, the voices had followed him. He wasn't sure if that made him less crazy … or more so.

Tom whispered a wandless warming charm on himself and wandered out into London. He needed to think. He was expected to improve things, but as he was still a child he hoped '_**the voices'**_ expected small things at first. Right now he was just 'that freaky kid' at the orphanage. Of course he needed that to change so that when Dumbledore arrived there would be no stories to make the wizard wary of him.

It only took a few blocks to find himself in a more expensive area of London, with the people staring at his shabbiness in distaste and suspicion.

Tom ducked behind a cart and decided this was as good a time as any to test how much magic and control were his at present. The clothing he wore had not been good quality even when new, but with some transfiguration and _reparos_ it was acceptable. Tom grabbed a discarded wool cloth and turned it into a well-lined heavy wool coat that went to his knees. Tom sighed in satisfaction, yes, this was much better. Tom cast a scorgify on himself and emerged looking more presentable.

Tom wandered further down the street and considered the situation. He was supposed to do something about the muggles, as well as the wizards … so he needed to get in good with them as well. He supposed he could start with the orphans. He could have them owe a few favors and gain allies. He sighed at the pressure from 'the voices'. Very well, he would practice 'making friends' – starting with them. Although of what use such friends would be he did not know.

He was now at an area with several mid-range restaurants. Some were near office buildings and small factories. Tom ducked around back of one. Sure enough there were dozens of large paper bags filled with a lot of sandwiches to stock the food vendors that sold to the factory workers and office personnel during lunch breaks.

The clothing charms had worked pretty well, though he'd felt the strain of keeping control. A small 'notice-me-not' was easier, and he quickly grabbed four of the large bags and a big jug of lemonade. The walk back to the orphanage was quicker and Billy was still yapping at the younger boys. Amy was still weeping quietly, likely from feeling hungry and cold.

Tom let his voice carry as he asked Amy, "I've got some sandwiches, are you hungry?"

Tom walked to the dining room a bit quicker; to make it to the dining table before the stampede he knew that would be led by Billy got to him. Sure enough the older boy made a lunge for the bags, but Tom was quicker and stepped aside. "I know where to get more. If you grab it all now, I won't share with you again." Tom gave him his best warning glare.

Billy and the others hesitated. They didn't doubt that the cunning Tom Riddle had found a food source and though Billy wasn't smart, he did have finely-tuned survival instincts. "You'll share wha' ya' get?" Bill asked, his beady eyes glued to Tom's.

"Yes." Tom answered emphatically, and Billy sat down, along with Eric and Dennis. They knew Tom always kept his promises, though until today that always been a bad thing. For instance, there were all those retaliations for any wrongs done Tom – as promised. Amy scuttled into a chair next to Tom and was handed the first sandwich.

Tom gave Billy and all of the older boys two apiece. The other children were drawn by the news of food and filed by to get one sandwich each, along with a glass of lemonade. Tom had to quietly cast a few refilling spells on the jug, but there was more than enough for everyone.

Tom thought for a bit and conjured a carrot and pulled it out of a pocket. Tom then tossed it down to Billy, who brightened. Billy pulled the tiny pet rabbit he'd acquired from somewhere out of his own pocket and fed "Mr. Buggs" the carrot. The sincere smile Billy cast at Tom made him squirm uneasily, but apparently he now had at least a tentative friend.

Tom grabbed a roast beef sandwich with some eye-watering horseradish on it, his favorite. The horseradish was almost strong enough to suit him. He liked it robust enough to clear the sinuses for a week. Amy was now smiling instead of weeping and was now just shivering. Ah – heat was the other thing the place needed, though with his newly acquired heavy coat it was not so bad for Tom, at least.

The children were looking a bit drowsy from the unfamiliar feeling of fullness and Tom slipped away to go downstairs to the coal bin – it was dismally low on coal. They were forbidden to burn coal in any of the stoves during the day. The children were expected to keep warm running around the yard and working. The hob of coal allowed each night was just enough to make the rooms compatible with life overnight.

Tom heard the plodding of a pair of the large cart horses and the coal man coming down the alley. He was making deliveries to everyone but them, Tom was sure. Stealing it would create problems, so Tom drew rather heavily on his magic and did a strong duplication spell, creating a huge mound of coal the same size as the one on the cart there in the orphanage bin.

Tom was a bit dizzy from that and sat on a nearby crate. Tom took out a second roast beef and horseradish sandwich to munch on, feeling much better immediately. His magic ran out quickly, having to do it wandless, but he had fair control and knew when to stop. His reserves seemed to refill adequately – though not at the rate he would have as an adult. If he was careful he could get away with a lot.

Tom wandered back upstairs and paused by the Matron's office and then wandered in. He watched her thoughtfully. She wasn't bad person – just overworked and leaning toward a gin problem. She'd likely be more useful a bit tipsy and agreeable. To this end he whispered a refilling charm on one more expensive bottle, filling it and recapping it tightly. A conjured ribbon was tied around the neck and Tom was ready to walk further in where she could see him.

The Matron stopped being suspicious after seeing the bottle in his hand and waved him off to 'see to the coal' that he told her had been delivered by an anonymous benefactor along with the gin. She immediately set off to stress test her liver in celebration of the New Year.

Tom bribed the older boys to fire up the stoves as hot as possible, with promises of coats like his for everyone. All the orphans were soon curled in their beds, not hungry or cold, and with the promise from Tom for this miracle to continue … and everyone knew that Tom kept his promises.

Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z~Z

Tom dozed for a few hours and woke before midnight. He was too wound up to sleep long. The noise of the New Year's celebrations awakened him. He pulled on the coat that he'd been using as a second blanket. The other three boys in the room were sleeping peacefully. Tom quietly conjured more coal into their stove as well as everyone else's, if they were nice and warm they likely wouldn't wake.

Tom wandered out onto the streets and headed for the very richest part of London, a plan slowly forming. On the way there he passed quite a few revelers and started his spell. It didn't require much magic, just concentration and a strong will … which he had in abundance. He invoked the general feeling of 'a New Year starting' and the tradition of 'New Year's resolutions'.

'Well, the spell said to the revelers softly, what better way to start the New Year that to help out orphans?' Tom smiled, letting the spell drift over the crowds. He worked his way into the parties of the very rich and powerful. They were in much the same places as they would be in the future as well so he knew where to find them, and then repeated the sentiment, bringing his full force of will. 'They were all rich; they could help out the poor and destitute, orphans especially. They had more than one sin to make up for …' Tom's spell let the people decide for themselves what sins those were. 'Why not help some orphans and those with less than them?'

He'd intended to speak of his orphanage in particular, but that would spark too much interest from the Ministry of Magic if the spells were detected. It was best to have the rich going to all the orphanages.

Tom grabbed food as he went through the parties, to replenish his magic. By the time he got back to the orphanage, just before dawn he was quite exhausted and just curled up in bed with the coat still on to sleep as long as he was allowed.

The next morning brought cart-loads of left-over food from various banquets, to Tom's relief, since he actually was a bit too drained to go out stealing more. Billy gave him a level look that said that when this largesse was gone, that Tom would be expected to come up with more food and he simply nodded in acknowledgement. A deal was a deal after all. All Slytherins understood that.

The other children didn't know what to make of some of the items the rich had sent over. Tom gleefully snatched all the tins of pate foie gras. Once he mentioned goose and duck liver the others didn't object.

The wizened old cook / housekeeper Glenda that lived and worked there put away everything not perishable and left all the food that would spoil quickly if not eaten for the children to gorge on. It was still a huge amount. Glenda sat and helped out with the feast and even Mrs Cole joined in as well with a stupefied look.

After lunch there was a steady stream of rich snobs turned philanthropist overnight coming in to talk to Mrs Cole about donations. They seemed to find comfort in each other's presence … as if that made their sudden need to 'give to the needy' less odd.

The roof was going to be fixed, windows replaced, food ordered, clothing and furniture bought. The list went on and on. The children all looked at Tom speculatively, though they said nothing. If freaky Tom had something to do with this, for once they had no complaints about it.

The newspapers over the following weeks praised the sudden outpouring of charity on the orphans, the widows and destitute. Tom was glad he'd made the spell widespread. The Aurors were sure to have noticed since the spell had apparently spread over most of southern Britain by the end. It would dissipate by summer, but hopefully the muggles would have gotten used to the spirit of giving and not totally abandon the projects they'd started.

All the children had heavy coats, now, so Tom's other promise was kept. He was at a bit of a loss as to what to start on next, spring would eventually arrive, but since he wouldn't be locking any fellow children in the cave this time … well, the seaside trip no longer interested him.

War was on the horizon for Europe, of course. It was now early 1938. Germany was about to invade Austria. Tom's mind spun in confusion every time he tried to think of how to stop a war. If there was one thing he knew from his history classes while in the orphanage, there was always a war going on in the muggle world. Yes, World War 2 was particularly brutal, but Tom couldn't stop it now – it really had already begun and all he could do was try and help it end sooner. Even killing the leaders wouldn't really stop it, they would become martyrs and their followers would just fight harder.

Tom needed a plan. A lengthy, detailed plan.

He pulled out an old, water-stained steno tablet and tapped a pencil on the desk in front of him. He thought hard about the main objectives of his 'mission'.

For the muggle world the problems were a bit obvious. Pollution, overcrowding, constant wars and a blind determination to misunderstand each other. Not to mention the sincere belief that each faction had that 'their way was best'. All of those needed to be addressed at least in part. One couldn't completely change human nature, after all.

For the wizarding world, well they needed to embrace everyone who had magic. Tom sneered a bit as he wrote. How he hated admitting that, even to himself. However, those that entered the wizarding world needed to embrace it as well … all of it. Their first allegiance needed to be to them. In spite of all the safeguards, loose lips were their greatest danger. The muggles could still be their biggest threat.

Kings and Emperors had enslaved wizards to their will in the past. Whether by oaths or cursed collars or even entrapping the wizard's family to use as hostages there had been wizards that had been unwilling servants to muggles. Not all 'court wizards' had been charlatans. Many had been real enough.

Seers had been the most obvious ones in history … even the muggles knew of them. Seers did not tend to be all that skilled in defensive magics and many liked the adulation that muggles lavished on them and there had been some that were at courts willingly. Having 'the sight' did not alarm muggles the way blowing up castle walls or turning enemies into frogs did.

Tom looked at the lists and sighed. Where to begin, and how?

A/N - Started this since 3 Slytherins is almost done. Let me know if it sounds interesting. I don't intend this story to be a particularly "deep" one. I'm hoping to keep it a little lighthearted and just compare what Voldemort would do as opposed to the classic Harry or Draco or whoever going back.


End file.
